


Getting to the Root of the Problem

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, Humor, M/M, Romance, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein homonyms and Naomi cause some confusion, but the boys figure things out anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting to the Root of the Problem

## Getting to the Root of the Problem

#### by Aouda Fogg

  
Still not mine, despite my best efforts. No infringement intended, no money being made.  
This is a little mushy *wg* I know, I know: what a shock in one of my stories! Fair warning, though: all I know about Tarot is the little bit I've gleaned from the site linked on the challenge and the bits in Kellie Matthew's AWESOME HardCoreLogo/Tales of the City crossover "Shadows Fade," (I know, I know, sounds like an odd mix *wg,* but it is terrific -- so is the kinda prequel that is a DS/HCL crossover. I recommend them ;) ) -- which is probably why the reading in this story bears a *cough* striking resemblance to the one in "Shadows." (if you're interested, and I hope you are, shoot me an email, and I'd by happy to send the URL back.) Still, I hope you enjoy and that I didn't get anything horridly wrong.   
  
Originally for SenThurs Challenge #118: Tarot.  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

"Hey, Chief, what do you know about tarot?" 

"Hmmmm?" Blair paused in his contemplation of the fact that while he had enjoyed his mother's visit, he was very glad she was gone -- maybe he had some things to meditate on -- and the fact that he felt like something comforting for dinner. Something like twice-baked potatoes. There was some gruyere in the fridge wasn't there? 

"Chief?" 

"Yeah, Jim?" 

"So?" 

"So what?" 

"Got an answer for me?" 

"Sure, I think the gruyere is in the top drawer." 

"Thanks for the situation report on the cheese, but what does that have to do with my question?" 

"What question?" Blair turned around and faced his partner and friend. Clearly he had missed something. "Clearly I missed something." 

"Yep." 

"Alright, well, I'm listening now." 

"You sure?" Jim crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "I wouldn't want to interfere with whatever in-depth cheese contemplation you've got going on. You need to strategize about the fact that we're almost out of jarlesburg?" 

The younger man grinned widely and flipped him off. "Hey, what can I say, man? Some of us were born for a higher purpose." 

"Somehow I'll find a way to refrain from calling you a cheesehead." 

"Good call. You had an inquiry?" 

"What do you know about tarot?" 

Grabbing a couple of the potatoes he unearthed from the bottom of the pantry, Blair began scrubbing them and contemplated his answer. "Not very much, actually. I know a lot of people who really like it, but it's never done that much for me. It's really important in some parts of the world, like West Africa. There's different kinds, I know that. In the American South it's called dasheen, ummmmm, and people use it a lot in the Caribbean and Polynesian islands. Actually, it's a big part of poi. Some of it's really toxic if you don't cook it right--" 

"Ah, Chief?" Jim cut him off. 

"Yes?" 

"I understand that you have your hands full of tuberous things, but I meant tarot cards, not taro root." 

Blair froze patting the last potato dry and burst into laughter, followed quickly by Jim. "Oops, see, that's what I get for thinking!" 

"Always a dangerous feat!" 

The two men laughed for several minutes, which felt like a welcome relief after several days of things being more . . . .careful with Naomi around. 

"Wow, you would've been really confused when I got to the fact that some of them are like a foot long." 

"That's one big-ass deck of cards!" 

"Imagine trying to shuffle them! Whew! Ok, big guy, now that we're on the same page -- uh, card? You wanted to know about tarot-with-a-t?" 

"Yeah. Next time I'll use cue cards." 

"Ha. Odd question for you -- I mean, the occult isn't exactly your thing." Then the light dawned. "Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that I sense the dabbling fingers of a certain maternal influence who has recently departed?" 

"Got it in one." Some of the tension he'd just gotten rid of stole back across Jim's face. "I, ah, I heard Naomi on the phone this morning." He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "You know how I feel about eavesdropping, but she was saying something about the two of us, asking someone, and I heard both of our names, and, well . . ." 

Blair huffed out a laughing groan. "And given past events . . ." 

A fleeting smile at Blair's comprehension lightened Jim's face before he frowned a bit again. "Right. So, I listened in just a bit, and I guess she did a Tarot reading." 

"Yeah, there've been times when she's really into it. I thought she was going to have a cow when I decided to go to Rainier when all of her readings were telling her I was supposed to go to some kibbutz school in the middle of the Negev desert." 

"At least you would've been dry and warm." 

Blair rolled his eyes. "And yet I missed my chance. So she did a reading?" 

"Apparently. I guess it kind of surprised her, so she called a friend for a second opinion. I missed some of it, but there was something about a Tower, which I guess was obstructions or past negative events? But things were better now because the King of Swords and The Fool were linked to The World. This making any sense to you?" 

"Uh, well, kind of. I mean, if it was about us, I'm betting you're the King of Swords -- justice, authority, the law. Which I guess makes me The Fool, which has some negative connotations sometimes, but it also represents the questing spirit in search of experience, I guess you could say resembles parts of me." 

"Huh." 

"And if I remember correctly, The World card is one of the biggies. It's about the beauty of the universe, and about Truth." 

"Sounds like some major stuff." 

"Yes." Blair nodded slowly, realizing for the first time that Jim wasn't so much uncomfortable as he was nervous. The feeling that he was deep in the middle of a conversation he didn't quite understand grew, so tried to reassure his friend. "Jim, I know this isn't--" 

"No, wait, hang on. So she hung up and came out of your room looking surprised, but kind of amused. She walked over to me, said that she was very pleased that you and I had gotten over the `difficulties' of last year, and that she could see you were happy. Then she told me to be careful of you and said it was time for her to go! That was about an hour ago." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah, so, some of the things she was saying kind of got me thinking." He trailed off. 

Blair took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forced himself to relax. They were getting to something really big here, he could see it, feel it. He just wasn't sure what "it" was. Or what he wanted it to be. Restraining himself from rushing forward and just shaking whatever it was out of Jim, he stood there, waiting, watching. He felt a rush of affection for his partner who was trying so hard to find the words to say whatever he was working up to. 

"I just wanted to say, thanks." A kind of half shrug punctuated his quiet statement. "Thanks for sticking around and scaling that tower with me. I'm, I'm glad you're here." 

The words and the emotions behind them stole Blair's breath for a moment. When he got it back, he said almost all of what was in his heart, reserving only the part about how much he loved the man in front of him. "Thank you, Jim. That means a great, great deal to me. I'm glad to be here, and I'm glad you're here, too." 

Jim's eyes met his for a long moment before they skittered away again, and a slight blush tinged his cheeks. "Ok, yeah, great. So, we're good." 

"We're good, Jim." 

"Ok. Good." 

"Yeah." Blair smiled gently and gave him an out, a segue back to normalcy, where tarot cards and feelings didn't dominate their discussions. "So, you want to grab the olive oil and we'll get these potatoes into the oven?" 

"I can do that." 

The potatoes had been in the oven for about forty minutes and the air was full of their aroma, when Blair heard Jim coming back down the stairs. He'd headed up there a while ago to change or to putter, or something, Blair figured. He glanced up from the cheese he was grating to see his partner looking down at something in his hands looking rather shell-shocked. 

"Jim?" 

"This was up on my pillow. It was just sitting there when I went up. I've been sitting there staring at it for the last 15 minutes." 

Really concerned now, Blair dried his hands on the dishtowel and walked forward. Jim handed him the paper -- the card -- he had been looking it. 

The Lovers. 

He recognized it instantly, tarot novice that he was. Of course, it wasn't that hard to figure out considering it actually said "The Lovers" down at the bottom. 

He shook his head. "This was on your _pillow?_ " 

"Either we have tarot elves or those maternal fingers have been dabbling again." 

He looked back down at the card, feeling his cheeks heat. He'd know that Naomi had probably figured out how he really felt about Jim, but since they'd never actually _talked_ about it, he had thought she knew to leave it well enough alone. Clearly he had over estimated her again. When would he learn? Shit. Now what? 

"Ah, sorry, Jim. I mean, I'll talk to her. I don't know what she was thinking. I'm so sorry about this--" He broke off when Jim held up a hand. 

Jim's eyes searched his face. They seemed to be looking for something. He wished he had the balls to ask _what_ it was. 

After a long moment where they just stood, looking at each other, Jim spoke. "Are you saying that because it's what you feel or because it's what you think I want to hear?" 

Blair's mouth fell open. Out of all the things Jim could've said, that had to be about the lowest on the list. He was prepared for anger, maybe some disgust, even a lack of interest, but this gentle quietness really threw him for a loop. "Uh, I'm not sure." 

"Well, let me help you out with that. I don't mind. It doesn't both me. I'm fine with it. I mean, judging by what I heard of the rest of the reading, this sounds like the card I missed the name of." 

Blair ignored all that last part and got to the important stuff. "You're fine with it?" 

"Yes." 

"What does that mean?" 

"It means I love you. And if it took something as weird as a tarot card and your mother interfering for us to figure that out, well ok." 

"You love me?" 

"Are you going to turn everything I say into a question?" 

"Maybe." 

"Do you have anything to say back?" 

"Um, sorry. I'm just feeling a little . . . .off kilter here. I mean, wow." 

"Is that a good wow, or a bad wow?" 

The naked vulnerability on Jim's face made his brain kick back into gear. "A good wow. A very, very good wow. I love you, too." 

A moment later, the card drifted to the floor; both men's hands were busy with other things. 

"I don't believe this." 

"Me either, Jim, me either. I never thought this would happen." 

"I feel like I've just been handed everything I've ever wanted." 

"The world, babe, the whole world." Blair whispered against Jim's neck. 

A long time later, they were tucked together on the couch, their clothes and hair rumpled and mussed, the newness of this all making them grin. "I guess this means we owe your mother dinner next time she comes into town." 

Blair paused very briefly in his exploration of the little hollows below Jim's collar bone with his tongue. "Nah, we'll just buy her a new set of tarot cards. I'm keeping the card she left for you." 

"Want to bet next time she shows up with a crystal ball?" 

"Nope. I want to bet about which one of us is going to come faster." He slid his hand down the front of Jim's pants. 

"Oh, god." Jim kissed Blair hard, reveling in it and pulling him closer still. "We're going to have a hell of a lot of fun, aren't we?" 

"Now that's something you can bet on." 

* * *

End 

Getting to the Root of the Problem by Aouda Fogg: aoudafogg@yahoo.com  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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